My truth

 What is my truth? Well, I’ll try to quantify it.
I’ve seen a lot, done a lot, had a lot, lost a lot more and gained tenfold more than I ever thought possible.
I used to believe my truth was something I could find, that it was connected to a person, a thing, a place. Uh uh. No, missy, it is NOT any of these things.
Our truth is inside of us, there from our first breath in this world.
I didn’t know this until about 3 months ago. Now that is a long fucking time to not know how to find your truth. That’s over 30 years of searching and the whole time I was looking, it was already there – you can imagine, I was a bit pissed off. Hell, I was pretty incandescent with rage and contempt for the people who never told me it was there. And I was pretty fucked off at myself too – how could I have missed it?
I’ll tell you exactly how I missed it – I had been told that this ‘hole’ I felt was meant to be filled with something else. That something was God. Yes, we’re back on this again. I’m really beginning to see how this concept is pretty damn destructive in so many ways.
I have attended several different churches in my life, this is what happens when your parents are devout. This is one of the only things I can remember about my childhood. Seriously, until I left home I can recall very little. The things that stick in my mind are these: my first day at school, twice (I attended 2 different primary schools), a boy with both his legs in braces, a teacher looking after me whilst my youngest sister was being born, another teacher asking me how to spell something when I was 10, bullies and church. There is very little else. Oh, and the house we lived in, with a lime green dining room and yellow bathroom. Anyway… 
The most prominent of these are the bullies and church. Church was, when I think about it, pretty bloody awful. I remember feeling guilty a lot of the time, and I always KNEW that I didn’t fit in right, that I was different. And the attitude of certain people, including my parents, towards the bullies was directly related to church life. You guessed it – turn the other cheek.
Who the FUCK thought that shit up! It’s basically a free pass for people to treat you like shit and you have to stand there and take it. To hell with that! Well, I can say this now, but at the time I was so scared of making a fuss that I retreated into myself. My folks knew I was unhappy, but I don’t remember them helping me to deal with this. They didn’t help me find my truth then, so I could be strong and stand up to these kids. All I remember them saying to me was ‘they’re jealous, just ignore them.’ This is the shittest advice in all the world.
OK, feel slightly better for that. But this was the mistake that I happened to suffer. My parents’ attitude to bullies caused me to suffer in silence. Even my father, who was bullied himself, simply said ‘I had it pretty shit, you just have to get on with it.’ Thanks Dad. NOT helpful.
So, basically, from the ago of about 7 until I was 18, I didn’t feel able to find any truth within myself as I was too busy keeping my head down and trying to avoid the bullies.
I’ve just this moment realised how bad this was. Why did nobody help me find my truth? I was so alone. It seemed that nobody cared. I didn’t trust anybody, let alone myself. Although, with hindsight, if I had been able to trust myself, I might have fared better. But then I didn’t have my truth, so it’s a bit irrelevant now. How much better things could have been if I was only taught how to deal with it.
I digress – no truth + church guilt = nasty bullies who made my life hell. 
Eventually I dropped out of school because of this, I had no friends left. I’d only had 3 to start with. Then I started to search for the truth which eluded me. 
 I tried various things. Went a little crazy. I now tend to flit and I am fickle. Trying to find your truth outside of yourself does not work. Believe, sister. I thought I had to FIND some outside thing that would reveal it to me. Nope. Not men or sex, not alcohol, not work, not study, not chocolate (although this is pretty good), not religion, not friends, not enemies, not success or recognition, not even having children.
Only when you learn to love yourself can you find it. I still struggle to love myself. All the years of hate and pain and loneliness poured over me, drowning me, obscuring my view – or both myself and others – suffice to make loving yourself incredibly difficult. It’s a slow and painful process to learn this. But I AM learning. Learning that I am enough, that I may be damaged but the damage has forced me to forge myself anew, into something better. I am more than the sum of my parts. I am beautiful and sexy and desirable (those 3 I’ve never put on paper until now, the thought of doing so caused me to feel sick with shame). I am NOT ashamed of who I am or where I have been, what I’ve done.
I am not whole, I’m still broken. But broken = beauty. Chaos = perfection. I love myself and I will live my truth.

So, here we go…..

A Very Small Witch

I really should have done this some time ago now, but then you always say that, don’t you? ‘Oooh, let’s write a blog! It’ll be awesome! I’ll do it every day and then the whole world can know what’s going on in my life, coz I’m so FUCKING interesting!’
Yeah, OK. EGO!!!
Already I’m finding this hard, I mean, what do I write? Seriously. I’m trying to get myself into the habit of writing every day. This needs to happen for me. I can’t keep all the words inside me any longer. I have wanted to write for at least 15 years now, maybe even longer. I’ve always loved words. Reading has always been one of my fave things to do and it’s now a bit of a shame that I don’t get to do much of it any more. Kids will do that you know. Steal your time away, slowly but surely. They also take your brain.
Anyway, yes, reading and WORDS. I don’t know why I’ve always loved them, seems a bit of a weird thing to love. Why should a series of lines on a page hold such sway over my life. If you think about it, they don’t really amount to much. Who was it that decided a certain formation of lines made a certain letter. Who decided what that letter should sound like? Who decided it should go with some other letters and make up this thing called a ‘word’?
But there’s something about them, isn’t there. So many of us are drawn to the beauty of these lines and marks on the page in front of us. You’re reading my words now and I’m just making shit up!
What shall I talk about today?
I get angry –  A LOT. This might need to be a place where I vent. I hope you don’t mind. Need somewhere to deposit all the shit that builds up in my head. And I want to write a book, if I’m honest. So if I start rambling on about some make-believe idiots in medieval Poland you’ll know why that is.
You don’t need to know all the details of my life. But basically a lot of shit has happened to me, as it has to so many of us. As Brendan Benson says: ‘My life in the D is a tragicomedy or poetic verse’. Alright, i don’t live in the D (Detroit, by the way), but you get the picture. I think probably everyone’s life is a tragicomedy, not always poetic though. After all the crap I’ve endured I’ve finally found happiness.
Might get a bit vomit inducingly soppy now, soz…
Today I am thankful for the following:
My gorgeous babies who are my world
My amazing partner who puts up with all my emotional freak-ness
For my being a freak, because being ‘normal’ is boring
For true friends, of whom I only have 2, but that’s enough
For a home, food, warmth and clothes, safety – because so many people in the world don’t have that luxury
Let’s face it, that last one is a luxury. Please, Universe, redress this balance. ‘Come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.’ That’s Shannon Hoon of Blind Melon (RIP).
This year I really need to get myself together. Over the past 12 months I’ve done a LOT of soul searching and found some things about myself. Like I have been a slave to so much utter shit in my life. It’s time to let it all go. Only yesterday I had a convo with my man about this, I can’t live life in the past any more. I think and dither and weigh up possibilities in my head until all joy is sucked from my soul. There are people who have contributed to this. Some of them think they are helping me when all they’re really doing is stifling me and not allowing me to listen to my intuition, my very soul. Well, frankly, I kind of let them do this. I ask for people’s approval quite a bit when I really don’t need to. I’m in my 30s now, why the hell do I need anyone’s permission to be myself!?
Uh Oh! There it is, that’s my main topic today!
I am NOT anybody’s bitch! I am a woman, dammit, who has her own life and her own mind. I have kids who love me and need to respect me. Right now, I don’t respect myself, this has to change. I need to learn to trust myself. Lisa Lister, you would so love this
This is a big part of my problem, I think. I don’t trust myself. Recently I’ve been thinking about this a great deal. I don’t trust myself. I need to learn this skill. As a child, growing up in a very traditional Christian household, I was taught to trust God in all things. No matter what happened to you, God was the one to trust. Something went tits up and you didn’t understand why – trust God. Someone was mean to you, hurt you – turn the other cheek and trust God. etc etc. ‘Intuition’ is not a word used in churchy circles. You are taught to listen to God, not yourself. Emotion and self-awareness like this is seen as (can’t think of the right word so I’ll just put) bad thing. If your gut tells you to do one thing, but it goes against the teaching of the Bible, you should not do it. And trust God. WTF?
I don’t even know why I’m using a capital G when I write the word god. As he’s no longer the real deal for me. He gave me jack shit (if I look at it from as spiritual point of view). Or rather, he gave me stuff, then took it away again. And I’m still meant to trust that fucker?!
No thanks.
I’ve learned, at least, to see that this doesn’t have to be my belief system. My parents’ views are not my views. Church views are not my views.
Revelation! Eureka! etc. I am not a slave to this any more. I release myself. And breathe…..
As I said, I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and have found that Paganism is WAY more my thing. It truly is like coming home. This is where I should have been all along. I know this because, when I was 14 or 15 I remember wanting it. I don’t know how (given my upbringing) but I found out about Tarot cards. Instantly I was fascinated and I tried to find out more. There was no way my parents would let me have any, so I secretly made my own deck. They were black. Or rather, I coloured them in black. Yes, I really did take it that far – I drew them all, I coloured them all, the whole works. Again, I don’t remember exactly, but they were taken from me, or I ‘lost’ them, basically they were gone and I don’t know how that happened. But you see, this is so many years ago and I knew then that this was something I could trust. Same with astrology.
Now, at 31, after all the crap I’ve endured, either in the name of my (then) faith, or just life generally, I have the thing I wanted most of all. Since I was a little girl I dreamed of finding the perfect man – I now have him. I dreamed of children – I have a boy and a girl, both perfect. I dreamed of a spirituality that I could trust and would let me be myself (Christianity is so stifling, how did I put up with it for 20 odd years) – I have found that.
So it is time for me to follow my heart. Finally, I can follow it. Finally, I can begin to leave all that past hurt behind. (Well, technically continue to leave it, but you get the gist). Finally, I can be the woman I was born to be.
What a fucking relief!